


they'll say we're in love, we probably are

by spacemancharisma



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Jon is just a gay idiot baby, Like That's Literally It, Love Confessions, M/M, and i love him so, it's just very soft and sweet and I think we need this, look I just wrote them as happy and safe and in love and I think that's valid of me, set in the safehouse because Obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemancharisma/pseuds/spacemancharisma
Summary: Jon knew what it was like for something to eat away at him.When he went too long without reading or taking statements, he felt the Eye begin to gnaw at him, chipping off and chewing the remnants of his humanity, not to mention the physical toll it took on his already fragile body.The way his love for Martin had started eating at him felt different.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 13
Kudos: 232





	they'll say we're in love, we probably are

**Author's Note:**

> my boyfriend wanted to read this fic so I wrote it for him because that's what love is

Jon knew what it was like for something to eat away at him.

When he went too long without reading or taking statements, he felt the Eye begin to gnaw at him, chipping off and chewing the remnants of his humanity, not to mention the physical toll it took on his already fragile body.

The way his love for Martin had started eating at him felt different. 

He didn’t actually know it well enough to put a name to it until the morning of their second day at Daisy’s safehouse. It wasn’t that he was particularly oblivious or in denial or anything of the sort, it was just that he had been very busy, and very afraid. But when Martin walked into the living room carrying two cups of tea, it was all so unbearably familiar that Jon had burst into tears on the spot. Martin had spluttered and floundered and Jon didn’t stop sobbing until a good while after Martin had settled down onto the couch next to him, hesitantly wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and Jon had allowed himself to collapse into a boneless puddle against Martin’s chest.

By the time his breathing had evened out and the tears had stopped falling, Jon was unable to avoid the incredible warmth that was blooming out from every place Martin touched him, more than just the warmth of kind touch after a lifetime of nearly none, but something almost painful in how sharp it was against the spaces where his ribs no longer were. Jon knew this feeling, though it had been something like ten years since he had felt it, and somehow it didn’t come as a surprise to him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be in love with Martin Blackwood.

He didn’t say anything in the moment, though. He needed to be sure of himself, and he needed time to figure out how to minimize the damage. In the meantime, he wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist and made their holding one another a bit more deliberate. He could have this much, he thought as Martin’s chin settled on the crown of his head,  _ just this much, just for now _ . 

The next few days passed in the same achingly comfortable companionship. Martin making more food than Jon had seen in the last decade on his own and seemingly endless pots of tea, and Jon taking every opportunity to take Martin’s hand for a brief moment or press their shoulders together when they sat next to each other, and when he spent the better part of the evenings all but climbing into Martin’s lap, arms tight around his waist and head resting solidly atop his heartbeat, he said something about how it was the best way he knew to help Martin heal from the trauma of the Lonely, and then something about how he certainly wouldn’t hurt for a few more hugs here and there either. And if he pretended not to notice the faint pink brushed across Martin’s face matching the flush of heat down the back of his own neck, well, that was between him and the thick way he swallowed when he started counting the freckles on Martin’s throat. 

Jon continued to insist on sleeping on the couch, his defense being that he barely took up half of it completely stretched out. At each such comment, Martin would hum noncommittally, but push it no further in favor of putting another pastry or piece of fruit in Jon’s hands and insisting he eat. “Hunger” wasn’t really something Jon’s body  _ did _ anymore, if it ever had to begin with, but that ticklish warm feeling in his stomach came back every time Martin smiled at him, so he ate for the sake of seeing it one more time. 

Days passed in this pattern, with the touching and the smiling and the  _ closer, always closer _ of it all, and Jon managed. The balloon of affection that had taken up residence between his lungs continued to swell with every interaction, and each night on the couch was spent drifting off to thoughts of how he could start the conversation, how it would feel to finally just say,  _ I love you _ . How it would feel to be held with proper  _ intent _ .

It was all finally too much the time that Jon shivered slightly and muttered something about a chill, and without any hesitation, Martin untied the plaid flannel shirt from around his waist and handed it to him. 

Sitting on exactly one couch cushion, legs folded beneath him, positively swimming both in Martin’s much, much too large shirt and in the overwhelming feeling of adoration for the man himself, Jon just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Martin, I-” he cut himself off as Martin turned back to face him and began fiddling with the hem of his shirt, unable to hold eye contact for too long with the utterly open and unguarded way Martin looked at him. “I understand if I am too late, and we can never talk about it again after this if you’d like, but, um,” his fidgeting had gotten somewhat frantic and his mouth opened and closed a few times without producing any sound. “Well, I suppose it’s not actually that complicated, um, in any case, I… am in love with you, and I believe I have been for some time, and I recognize that it is very unfair to you that I’m only saying so now- so much time has passed, so many things have changed, you have changed, god knows  _ I _ have changed, so I really do understand if I.. missed my opportunity, so to speak. I really do so highly value the friendship I’ve somehow had the privilege of building with you, and I would never want to jeopardize that relationship, certainly not any more than I already do just by being here, so if you would just like me to never bring it up again, I won’t,” Jon took a deep, shuddering breath and somehow brought himself to hold Martin’s gaze. “I just needed to be sure that you knew. I just needed to tell you. I’m very sorry.”

Martin gaped at him for a second, eyes blinking so blankly that Jon felt as though he could see the wheel spinning in his brain. Then he shook his head like clearing away a fog and smiled, slightly disbelievingly. 

“Jon,” there was the faintest laugh in his voice. “Are you hedging on the bet that _I_ _might not love you anymore_?”

Jon’s eyes quickly returned to studying the thread he was picking at on his shirt and his mouth moved more quickly than his brain. “Well I didn’t want you to..” his hands waved about nervously. “Feel unnecessarily uncomfortable, I suppose, if that were the case.”

This time, Martin did laugh, a small, intensely fond sound. “Jonathan Sims,” he sat down on the couch next to Jon, careful not to touch and risk shattering the blown-glass moment. “I was in love with you when you were  _ dead _ . That’s not the kind of thing that goes away so quickly.”

Jon turned his eyes to him, huge and round and so deeply black, and Martin found himself thinking that Jon had no need of any supernatural power of compulsion with him, that he would do anything Jon asked of him in a heartbeat, just because he wanted those eyes to keep looking at him. He wanted them to keep looking at him  _ like that _ , as if he was the only beautiful thing left in the world. 

Jon looked up at him through long eyelashes and with the faintest hint of both hope and apprehension in his words. “So does that mean-“

Martin loved Jon’s voice, loved it more than almost anything, but he couldn’t bear to hear another stilted, awkward, self-deprecating declaration of love from him. He already knew everything he needed to. 

So he softly took one of Jon’s hands in his own, and with the other, tilted his chin up ever so gently with his thumb and forefinger. Jon’s eyebrows drew together and his mouth fell open, just slightly, but Martin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Can I kiss you?”

All the air rushed out of Jon at once to make room for the agonizing sincerity that painted across all his features. “Oh please do.”

Martin’s hand moved to hold him ever so gently around his jaw, and when their lips met, Jon let out another sigh that sounded close to crying. 

Jon hadn’t kissed anyone since university, but even if he had fallen somewhat out of practice, he had thought about this moment specifically far too often to be at a loss of what to do. His free hand wrapped around one of Martin’s arms and gripped just shy of too tightly, but the reassurance of  _ this is happening, this is real _ was not begrudged by either of them. 

When they pulled back after a long moment, Jon’s face was lost to something slow and dreamy, and before he was fully to himself again, he was pressing soft, slow kisses to the corner of Martin’s mouth, and his forehead. He watched as, all at once, Martin’s face crumpled into a silent but steady stream of tears.

“Oh god, oh no, I-” Jon’s hands fluttered around him as he stammered apologies, but Martin caught them out the air and kissed each scarred knuckle in turn.

“S’good,” he whispered against the stripes of pale, burned skin on Jon’s palm. “I promise, only happy tears.”

Martin laughed quietly, and under the wet, hiccuping noise there was a thick current of pure joy. “I never really thought that this would happen, you know.” Jon began to smooth one hand through Martin’s hair as he spoke, staring openly with unshielded fondness. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I was comfortable knowing that it was never going to go both ways, I was just so grateful to have you in my life at all, and now, I just…” There was that smile again, more than Jon could take. “Jon I know the world is kind of ending for everyone but us right now, but honestly, I think this might be the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Jon’s shoulders shook just once with what probably should have been a laugh, and he tucked his body tight against Martin’s, allowing himself to be completely encased in Martin’s arms and legs, and ducked his nose into the fabric of Martin’ shirt that he was still wearing, just to breathe it in.

“You know what, Martin? I think I’d have to agree.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hhh I had a hard time trying to get their voices down in this and it might be super ooc but my bf liked it so that's what matters lmao


End file.
